Truths
by Beth Weasley
Summary: Free of the crazy mercs, the survivors get a chance to breathe, and truths are shared with potentially huge effects. Immediately follows 'A Matter of Instinct'. M for language and past situations.


Many thanks to everyone who reviewed 'A Matter of Instinct' and 'Faint Premonition'. This story picks up immediately at the end of the former. I'm trying to decide whether I should post a heavily-edited version of the next in-between fic, 'Departures', here on ff net and then post the full version on aff net, or if I should just post the full version on aff net. Some of the stuff I would have to edit out for ff net is kinda, well, important, but waaaaaay beyond what ff net permits. If I go with the second option, that means it'll be two weeks before I post the third in-between fic, since I'd like to give folks a chance to read 'Departures' before 'Homes'. Please let me know what you think, both about my options for 'Departures' and this fic! I love comments and constructive criticism; it's the best way for me to get better as a writer. Enjoy!

**Truths**

A Seer-verse Story

I glared at the imam's back as he left the star-jumper's cockpit, then glanced over at Jack. I had no idea how the fuck she'd managed to sleep through the argument, but she had. A good thing, too, because she needed the sleep.

A bird-like trill startled me, and I turned back to the control board. Next to the comm, a green light blinked. My finger cautiously pressed the acceptance key.

"Oh, thank God." The face of the unknown woman on the other end of the connection shifted rapidly from solemn to relieved. "You _did_ get rid of the bitch."

"Not everyone liked her, I take it."

"_Fuck_ no. A lot of us techs were shanghaied." That made me raise an eyebrow. "Look, I've been in charge of cryo for a while now. Junner told me to thaw all the mercs, but I dragged my feet and only 'managed' four, plus a group of 'Golls. I'm planning on locking down the controls before I leave, so the rest stay in the fucking tubes. Then a group of us are going to take one of the shuttles and go to the nearest spaceport, get the Alliance to get us home to our families." She paused, taking a deep breath. "I wanted to know if there was anything I could do to repay you for what you've done."

"The 'statues' in her conservatory…" I tried to hide the eagerness I felt as the woman nodded. "Could you unfreeze one of them? Get them off the cryo she used on them?"

"I… I don't have any access to those formulas. None of us do." Her gray eyes looked down. "The one time I tried to check them out, they took away the 'privilege' of writing my family for a year. But as strong as it might be, it should still wear off in time. How long it might take, I couldn't say. Why did you want to know?"

"There's one that… Well, he could have important information that I need. The plaque on his stand reads 'Killer of Men: Furya'."

"The creepy one." A shudder ran through her frame. "She dosed the others about every third year… but he got a dose at least as large _every_ year. Almost as though his body burns through the chemicals faster. I could probably take him somewhere, though, if you want to pick him up or something."

"Icarus Station." I thought quickly. "Send it to their branch of MM&T, care of Mr. Cartwright, with a note that it's from his sister. He'll understand."

"It's a deal, then. Good luck, _Sparrow_. Out." The screen blanked as I turned to the convict in the pilot's seat.

"Info?" His voice was half wary, half curious.

"On who and what we are." I reached for the dull green duffel bag Zeke had left in the cockpit and began digging through my stuff. "The similarities between us are too great to be coincidental. I think we, and that 'Furya' guy, came from the same place." My hand touched the hard case protecting my comm system, and I pulled it out from underneath my other belongings. Riddick watched as I withdrew a neatly folded lavender blanket and a single sheet of off-white paper. Its top and left edges were ragged, torn from a larger piece, and the black ink had blurred slightly in a couple of spots where tears had probably fallen. "This was with me when Mom and Dad found me twenty-five years ago."

I didn't need the actual letter to know what he read; the words of my birth mother had engraved themselves on my heart long ago. I cradled the soft blanket, savoring the emotions it always invoked in me. A touch of fear and a profound grief, countered by hope, determination, and limitless love. Sometimes, despite many washings, I thought I could almost smell her in its folds.

"Wonder if mine cared as much." I looked up sharply, sensing more than seeing my friend's pain. He laid the paper aside to scrub his hands over his face.

"I… I don't think she put you in that dumpster." Riddick's face looked bleak, even as my gut told me more. "She ran, too. But he caught up to her… and she fought to her own death, trying to protect you. 'You'll have him over my dead body.'" I gulped, hearing voices not my own. "He tore her open to get to you. Almost too early… premature." The unexpected glimpse of the past unsettled me.

"Not for me. Don't die for me." The convict whispered, voice suddenly hoarse. I set my blanket down and moved to his lap, my hands framing his face. At a loss for words, I simply kissed him.

He responded hesitantly at first, as though unsure of what, exactly, he was supposed to do. Then his arms slid around me. The kiss seemed to last forever, slow, sweet, and tender… everything his criminal record claimed he wasn't. When I finally broke the liplock, my head settled onto his chest so I could hear his heartbeat.

"Dunno what th' hell this is." Riddick kept his voice soft. "But, damn… it feels _so_ fuckin' good." I smiled gently as he continued, changing subjects. "We're on autopilot for now. Figured it'd be a good time t' get all this shit washed off."

He had a point. Between week-old grue blood and gore, goo from the shrill, and the mess from killing the half-mechanical 'Goll monster, we were getting pretty rank. A shower sounded wonderful.

"Fantastic idea," I replied. The letter and blanket were packed away carefully, the comm case in my hand and one of the bag's straps over my shoulder. The big guy gracefully rose from the pilot's couch, then scooped up the sleeping Jack without disturbing her rest. In the common area, Shazza sat alone, idly fingering the strands of black pearls at her throat.

"We've divvied up the cabins." The heiress pitched her voice low. "General consensus was that you three oughtta have that 'un." She pointed to a door set away from the other three. "You've earned it, more than earned it."

"Thanks." I smiled at her. "I'll see what I can do to get Randy to lean on your dad about Zeke." I considered it amusing that I'd ended up on a ship with my boss' goddaughter.

"You are some kinda goddamn angel, Eileen, I swear to God." The brunette resisted a yawn. "I'm gonna go wash up and catch some z's. 'Night." I watched, bemused, as Shazza went into one of the cabins. Then, shrugging, I touched the pad beside the door she'd indicated, drawing a sharp breath as it opened.

They hadn't set aside a simple cabin for us, they'd chosen a damn suite. The first room held a big, plush couch that faced an elaborate entertainment system. Gently lowering the girl onto the cushions, Riddick found a throw pillow and tucked it under her head. Then he palmed the second door's controls.

The spacious bedroom centered on a huge bed with a wrought iron headboard, satiny scarlet bedding covering its expanse. The bottom meter of an entire bulkhead protruded into the space, creating a shelf above the doors and drawers. Seeing the familiar shape of a washing unit, I sighed in relief; I'd have _clean_ clothes to wear before long.

The moment the hatch closed behind the convict, I shed my purloined tank top, the bra quickly following as I opened the washer and tossed them inside. I bent to untie my boots, and a wad of black fabric sailed over me to thump against the back of the unit. I looked over at the man my animal side called 'mate' and became transfixed as he removed his belt and began opening his fly. His smug chuckle broke the spell, and I returned my attention to the task of getting naked.

"You first." The big man started opening drawers as he spoke. Inventorying our newly acquired assets, I was sure. So I sauntered over to the head, hips swaying.

_Do I want to stop acting like I'm in heat, or not?_

I'd never flirted so outrageously in my life. What was it about him that put my libido into overdrive? I shook the question away and stepped into the shower stall, noticing that it was more than big enough for two.

About twenty minutes passed before I finally felt clean enough to be presentable. The spray from all directions and being out of danger had allowed my muscles to relax and loosen up, relieving an ache I'd barely registered. Wrapped in a big, fluffy white towel, I brushed past Riddick on my way back to the bedroom.

A wine-red robe lay across the foot of the bed, and I mentally thanked the convict for his foresight. I made sure to belt it firmly before heading into the sitting room. Time for the talk I'd promised Jack, if she was awake.

My timing couldn't have been better. The girl rubbed her eyes and began sitting up as I came through the hatch, Junner's modified assault rifle resting across her lap. I sat down next to her, one arm across the back of the sofa.

"Hey, kiddo. Nice digs they picked out for us, don't you think?" She smiled a bit and nodded. "You feel up to tellin' me what made you go on the run?"

"I guess. Might as well get it over with." Jack took a deep breath and leaned into my side. "Full name's Jacquelyn Audrey Brandon. Lived on Scorpio I for my whole life, until recently. My parents were killed in a drive-by shooting when I was five." Her green eyes looked up at me through her lashes. "We lived in a pretty bad neighborhood. Didn't have much, but Momma an' Dad made sure I knew they loved me." She sniffled. "No other family on planet, an' none of my relatives anywhere else wanted anythin' t' do with me."

_Heartless bastards._

"Th' first foster home wasn't too bad. Coupla boys an' me, older couple. Was there three years 'fore th' system decided they were too old an' moved us. They sent me t' this big institution-type place. Lotta th' older boys were bullies, an' several picked on me. Figured out how t' defend myself some, but it got me in trouble an' they moved me again.

"That's when it got bad. At least twenty kids in th' place, I thought for a while. Th' moment I started lookin' 'pretty,' they took me t' a different part of th' place I hadn't seen before. Locked me in a windowless room with nothin' but a bed an' a bathroom so small I could barely turn around in it. Lady that ran th' place came in, gave me some sorta shot, an' said I had t' do whatever I was told." Trembling now, the girl took a deep breath.

"That's when th' men started comin' in. They made me…" As the tears and hiccupping sobs began, I drew Jack close to let her cry into my shoulder. She clung tightly as my inner animal snarled and paced.

"They'll be punished, hon. I swear it. Even if I have to track 'em down an' kill 'em myself. Every last one." The assurance seemed to help.

"I felt so dirty," she murmured finally. "About scrubbed myself raw every time I showered. Dunno how long it took t' figure out how t' get up in th' bathroom ceiling. Found a vent in th' crawlspace up there, one that was on an outside wall, an' I ran for it. Stowed away on th' _Hunter-Gratzner_, got in a locker as soon as I could. You know th' rest."

Wordlessly, I continued to hold her, one hand rubbing her back until her eyes dried. With no blood kin who wanted her, she'd just go to another foster home if we cut her loose. And twelve was more than a bit older than the usual adoption age. But…

"Why'm I all right around Riddick, but not any of th' other guys?" The question caught me off guard, and I had to switch mental gears quickly.

"I think that, somewhere in here," I began, tapping her chest over her heart. "Maybe a part of you can tell that he grew up in the system, too." I wasn't about to mention that I believed they'd both been royally shafted by the joke that passed for foster care in most places. But there was something I might be able to do about that. "Would you like to be adopted? As my sister?"

"Really?" Jack looked up at me, clearly astonished, as I nodded. "_**Yes**_. I'd like t' be your little sister." With a smile, I gave her shoulders a small squeeze.

"Y'know, he should be out of the shower soon. How about we go see if that crazy merc had anything that you can wear while we wash what you've got on? Then it'll be your turn to get rid of the gunk." Much more cheerful, the youngster preceded me back through the door. We ended up with another bathrobe in a deep plum color that went past her knees.

I got out my comm system and stretched out on the bed to start recording a message for Jamie, who ran the Icarus Station branch and had been a surrogate older brother for me as I grew up.

"Hey there, Cartwright. I was right; the ship I got on, one _Hunter-Gratzner_ of New Oslo and Alliance Shipping, went down. Not exactly sure about the cause, could have been a meteor shower or a rogue comet. Captain died in his cryo-locker, and we made a crash landing in the M-344/G system, second planet, which happens to be the only terrestrial-type there. Fuckin' trinary system, and we get there just before a year-long eclipse that runs on a twenty-two year cycle.

"Ship's navigator suffered a fatal injury in the landing, and the med-locker got lost somewhere in the debris. So I was actually _glad_ that Sergeant Drift's field kit had some Anestaphine. Then, while several of us were off looking for water, Zeke— John Ezekiel, one of the surviving passengers— got attacked by something. His hand and a good section of his forearm were just… gone. Fortunately, another survivor managed to haul him out of the cave he was in and stop the bleeding; the creature didn't follow.

"I think it's kind of ironic that a planet that normally has 24/7 sunslight is home to a horde of savage beasts that go crispy under a freakin' handlight.

"The geologists' settlement there apparently got caught in the previous eclipse, but they'd started prepping their emergency skiff. The docking pilot rewired a power cell from the _H-G_, which gave us enough juice to do systems checks and run the lights for a while, but we needed four more, so most of the vulnerable ones stayed there while the rest of us went back to the wreck. The eclipse started shortly after we'd gotten what we needed and headed for the settlement.

"We lost one on the way back to the skiff, not that I think anyone will particularly miss Mr. William Johns." I smirked. "He bit the big one about two hundred hours before the timestamp on this message. Lemme know who gets the pool and how much it was. And we lost the pilot just after mercs picked us up. Anaphylactic shock, they said.

"So there's eleven of us now, including Sharon Montgomery— yes, as in the daughter of Randy's buddy Robert— and her husband, Zeke, of whom 'Daddy' doesn't approve. If Randy could apply some pressure to give the man a chance, I know Shazza'd be thrilled.

"On a serious, work-related note, one of the other survivors is a twelve-year-old girl named Jacquelyn Audrey Brandon. She escaped a particularly foul-sounding foster home on Scorpio I and stowed away on the _H-G_. Get the paperwork started so I can adopt her as my sister, and come down on the people who run that sorry excuse for a home like a thousand kilos of bricks. Hit 'em with any charge we can make stick, and be _noisy_ about it. The system needs a kick in the ass if they're letting this kinda shit happen."

The door to the head opened, and I glanced up. Big mistake. Riddick wore only a short towel wrapped around his waist, and all that tawny skin on display snared my attention. Smiling slightly, he approached, touching my cheek with two gentle fingers. As they swept toward my ear, I closed my eyes, reveling in the caress. It continued around my earlobe, then down my spine, the silky robe not changing the feel of his touch.

His fingers drew away, and I had to blink a few times before I remembered the message I was recording.

"Sorry 'bout that, Jamie. He's one of the other survivors; ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies.

"Anyways, I seem to have caught a case of itchy feet, and I've got this fancy, hyper-equipped star yacht. Doesn't really suit what I'm thinking of doing, so I'm going to be trading it in. Looking for a light to mid-bulk freighter with a hyperdrive, and I'd appreciate it if you could suss out some of the dealers on Icarus. We'll be headed there once we drop our eight passengers off.

"I hope Erica's been keeping you out of trouble while I've been away. See you soon, big bro." I stopped the recording there, quickly sending it toward the nearest communication hub. From there, it would be flung toward Icarus at a speed not even the fastest scout ship could approach.

I rolled over on the bed and sighed. In a matter of hours, I had been infuriated, disgusted, enraged, worried, pissed off, terrified, relieved, irritated, angered, and very, _very_ aroused. Mr. Sex-on-Legs rummaged around in a closet, but I couldn't jump his bones with Jack in the next room and no lock on the door between.

If we didn't get rid of people soon so the girl could have a cabin of her own, I was going to burst in frustration.


End file.
